The Lunch room is always hectic. Not enough seats and too many teenagers. Clicks fill tables over maximum capacity. People littered throughout the entire room. I grab my tray and milk and proceed out to the benches. Beryl and Ashley are already there. Ashley talks her head off and Beryl eats her food. Beryl occasionally glances up and nods to reassure Ashley she is paying attention.
“Hey May!” Ashley shouted as if I was across campus.
“How was your summer?” I replied
“Well California was a blast, Mexico is overrated but I went to the best spot anyways!” She continued on but I practiced my selective hearing just like Beryl. The entire lunch was just Ashley talking about her incredible summer. We all knew she really didn’t do all those things, maybe it was just me and Beryl. Ashley was quite convinced of her self. The thing is, Ashley has gone to her father’s house in Connecticut every summer since I could remember. She was quite the spontaneous liar. It’s always anything to make herself look better for the moment.
School couldn’t have ended any sooner. It was like time flew through my finger tips, and kept flowing. It’s a good thing I suppose. The bus ride was casual. I went home, did my chores, read a few chapters from Macbeth and crawled in my bed.
I had been so worked up from the day. My mind was still trying to process all the components of school. I had forged my mother’s signature on all my syllabuses, I had listened to Ashley’s fib, given Beryl my coat, and talked to a boy. I wish I had not screwed it up. I just had the imprint of my smile underneath my eyelids. I tossed and turned and rested my heads between my fingers. I wish sleep could come quicker.
As if the morning wouldn’t have gotten colder then the day prior, the frost of the bus stop was bitter. Beryl had my only clean coat and my hair was still damp. I was trembling uncontrollably. The bus had evidentially been delayed. I was truly thinking my hair would freeze and just break off if I simply touched it. I wondered how much less attractive I would be without hair.
Alas, the bus arrived. Most of the seats were empty. Moms and Dads must have given their kids rides. It was colder on the bus then outside. I barely dropped my binder on my fingers and it sent splintering sensations up my wrist. Starting to hate the cold, I cupped my hands and blew in warm air.
When the bus finally got to school the bell had already rang. The bus driver had not even called the school to excuse the late. The snobby office secretary looked up from the monitor and glared over her pointed red glasses. She waited for me to speak.
“I’m here to sign in,” I shyly spoke. I waited for awhile and started to speak, “should I just-“
“Your late,” She boldly interrupted.
“My bus had been delayed,” I was uneasy with her tone and vibe. She resumed working at her computer. I shifted to the other foot. It was about a minute and I thought she forgot about me. I was about to turn around and she spoke out.
“There is no message of a delayed bus route on the system. This late will be unexcused,” she glowered at me, wrote me a late note with unexcused circled too many times. She flashed a fake smile at me that made me wince as I took the note from her hand. My fingers brushed hers and it was clammy and cold. It suited her well.
The hallway was empty. It’s amazing how it goes from being packed over limit to deserted within 5 minutes. When I turned the corner the boy from yesterday was talking to another student. The other student was scrubby, I knew he was a stoner, and had been in and out of juvenile hall. They seen me coming and nodded their heads and walked separate directions. Charles smiled and waved to me. Blushing, I waved back and nearly tripped. I guess I can’t do the simple multitask of waving and walking.
The day was normal from there forth. I was just thinking about 4th period and thinking about Charles. I wonder if he will talk to me again. He most likely already doesn’t know my name. He has to already be annoyed by me. He was just being nice to me in the hall by waving. I just let my mind wonder from a good thing to something worse and worse. I don’t understand how I can do that to myself. It’s fun to daydream. The only problem with daydreaming is that my dreams mostly turn into nightmares.
